


Fire of Summer

by Hibkei



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, a little abstract, ok more than a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6981628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibkei/pseuds/Hibkei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told himself they were fated to be together, that it was their time.<br/>He had been right then.<br/>He had been wrong too.</p><p>Harry and Louis are soul mates and for better or worse, they burn together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire of Summer

 

They would find love. That is what he told himself.

It started with a kiss, soft, discreet, stolen. A quiet thing on a balcony that lit a fire inside him. A fire that surrounded them both and held them within it.

He told himself they were fated to be together, that this was their time.

He had been right then.

He had been wrong too.

Sometimes heat and kisses are not enough. Sometimes they are too much.

There were a great many things he did not know.

He had given up his heart from the very first kiss but he had not known it was too slippery to the touch. 

He thought he had another heart to hold but he had not known it was a replica, the actual too damaged to even be held.

I wish I could have told him, told them both but it was not my place. It is mine only to see.

His name was Louis and the boy he kissed was called Harry. 

Louis and Harry had been orbiting each other since before the beginning of time, never quite landing, just waiting. And so was I.

They were not prepared for the force. The impact and the rippling effect. 

In stubborn wilfulness Louis pulled. In awkward defensiveness Harry pushed.

To them is seemed as if everywhere enemies were waiting, poised to spring. The fiend was his friend, the fiend was their friend, the fiend was them.

It whispered to them when they were alone. It told Louis things about Harry. It told Harry things about Louis. It told them things about themselves, of what they had, what they wanted, what they would lose.

It gnawed at them.

They held tighter, even as they frayed. With each fight, each crystal tear, the sparks flew higher into the hot air and they burned brighter and fiercer than before.

They could not stop it. For a moment they thought they had. They stood together and considered the fiend banished, the whispers quieted, the crackling of the flames their only company.

However, the greatest enemy remained. Themselves. 

In the dark summer nights under the flight of sprites they came together seamlessly and perfectly imperfect. 

Harry saw the moon and the inhabitants of the night reflected in Louis’ eyes and he thought it was beautiful. He looked deeper and Louis showed without regard. 

Harry’s fingers grasped his waist and Louis’ hands held on and they twirled. Through the spiral flames I watched. I was the audience entranced by their dance, broken for them before they ever were. 

One gave too much, the other, too little. They probed each other under the stars for more, for less. They looked within themselves and saw what they needed but could not show it.

When one relented the other repented.

And so they pushed and pulled and were knocked about like ships in a storm. Back and forth. The motion violent but lulling all the same.

When they came away with bruises and scratches lacing their delicate hearts they would soothe each other just enough to return to the burning sea.

I have said their hearts were too delicate, not quite done, unready but they would never believe me. They fancied themselves so resilient. They thought they could withstand anything and without intent they set out to prove it ardently. 

Nestled deep within them both there was a softness that only a few ever saw.

They saw it in each other and they reached for it.

Peeling away the layers they gazed at each other, mesmerised. Have you ever looked at something ethereal and you know, you can feel it in you soul and yet have no idea what you were looking at? This was them.

They knew they were different, special. There was more than a quickness to kiss, to touch. There was a multiplicity that echoed a complexity that they had never before encountered.

These wonders made them feel things that ran beyond the physical, beyond the kiss on the balcony, the coupling in the company of fireflies. It singed their core and they were not ready.

When it became too much they pushed again and their ships were alight.

The cycle was endless, looping over and over even more lulling than than the flicker of the flames. If sleep was mine to have I probably would have craved it to my eternal shame just to close my eyes to their end.

Instead, unblinking I waited. For the first time since I began I found myself wishing for words. I found myself wanting to reach out when I saw the first scratch become the first crack. I could not. I have no words that they could hear. Just eyes that see, a conduit.

I saw Louis’ tears when they finally broke. His fingers grasping at air. It was so hot, far exceeding what it should have been. The flames had grown unchecked, unruly and merciless. It burned him with an intensity it never before had and he recoiled surprised, finally opening his eyes. 

He saw a wall of flame. He believed he was alone.

I saw what he did not. Harry’s agony. He too was broken in the flames, burning, eyes searching fire, too bright, reaching blindly, grasping nothing.

Harry curled within himself further than he ever had before and Louis stood cracking. The fire filled places it was never meant to reach. The dam was breached and they were consumed.

From that very first kiss that lit that very first fire, they began a dance within the flames. The inferno licked up their sides and burned them in a way that they craved more than anything. The pleasure of it had been immense. The movements macabre but graceful. Mesmerising. 

They were not yet ready for the forms they forced their bodies to take but they gave it everything; expecting things of the other that the other just could not give.

When the flames died, they were gone.

There was nothing left but the ashes and the memories that haunt them and the spaces their heat invaded.

Still I watch because some things just are and it is my duty.

When the wind stirs, the echoes sound. 

When the echoes sound, the ashes dance.

When the ashes dance, the ghosts appear.

Sometimes I see a hand reach and fingers curl. Sometimes I see glassy eyes, blue and green. I see lips touch. Through the grey dust of the past I see torsos contort and hips join

When the wind dies and the ashes settle so do the ghosts. But it leaves behind a feeling, tangible and sharp. 

I know that feeling well. It is the feeling of inevitability.

It is my lot to stay here for eternity, and I know that if I stay here long enough and I look long enough they will reform.

I know that Louis and Harry both cling to a hope and that hope will be all they need to pull themselves from the dust.

Even now as I send this record in the only way I know how, I can see embers, glowing red that your eyes could not comprehend, but my eyes, they are not like yours. 

When I look into the fire of summer, I see their future. 

I see them reaching for each other. 

I hear the whispers of their love, the promises and I know that this time they are ready, both of them, together. Their hearts are strong and sure, real and pure. 

With bated breath I watch love being reborn. 

They are as infinite as I am and as the flames ignite I take comfort in my knowledge that there are some things in this world and in all the others to come that are truly destined to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little thing that popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down.  
> I'm Crows-onthewire on Tumblr


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